


The Prodigal Sons Return

by tender_is_the_ghost



Series: Connor and Tracy [1]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Connor MacManus - Fandom, Sean Patrick Flanery - Fandom
Genre: Body Image, Brothers, Condoms, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, First Date, Ireland, Kissing, Missionary Position, New Relationship, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Undressing, Vigilantism, safe sex, sheep farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanted men in Boston, the Saints return to the Mother Country, older and wiser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prodigal Sons Return

 

The side door to the barn opens with a creak, the watery sunlight illuminating the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man in the doorway. A blast of chill air accompanies him as he slips inside, fastening the door behind him and walking over to the side of the pen where you’re on your knees, a small lamb sucking furiously on the bottle between your fingers. You look up at him as he approaches, loosening the buttons on his thick jacket, taking note of his windblown hair and the deep crinkles around his blue eyes as he smiles down at you.

“Hi, you must be Tracy,” he says, the soft sound of his voice tinged with something a little harsher than just the Irish brogue you were expecting. “I’m Connor. Da said you’d be comin’ to help with the lambin’. How’s this li’l feller doin’?”

You glance down at the lamb snuggled into the crook of your arm, eyes almost closed as it drains the last of the formula from its bottle.

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” you answer, placing the baby gently back down when its finished.

Connor reaches a hand down to help you up and you take it, feeling his strong grip around yours, his skin cool and rough, as he pulls you up from the floor.

“Thanks,” you say, brushing stray bits of straw off your jeans and then climbing out of the pen.

“You ready to go out?” he asks.

“Yeah, let me just grab my jacket. I saddled the horses already.”

“Horses?” says Connor, a note of trepidation in his voice.

“How else did ya think we were going to get around?” you laugh. “Did ya think we were gonna take a nice afternoon stroll up into the mountains, waiting for all the little lambs to follow us home? We have a lot of ground to cover and I certainly don’t want to be carrying young-uns back by foot.”

You button up your jacket and pull on your gloves while Connor mumbles something that you don’t quite catch.

“Sorry?” you ask, opening the stall doors and leading out the horses.

“I said, now I know why Murph volunteered to drive into town with Da.”

”Murphy’s your brother, right?

“Aye,” Connor grunts, taking one set of reins from you and leading his horse forward to open the main door, “and that little shit is gonna be feelin’ the back of my hand when he gets home tonight.”

You follow him outside, securing the door behind you and mount your horse. To your surprise, Connor boosts himself up with an easy grace and settles into the saddle with a sigh.

“What?” he says, catching you staring at him. “I never said I couldn’t ride, I just don’t like to.”

He gives you a cheeky smile and you laugh lightly, urging your horse out of the small yard with your thighs and steering it out into the open, the fields ahead stretching out into rolling hills. You ride quietly for a while, neither of you making conversation until you begin to feel a little awkward.

“So, you and your brother were living in America, weren’t you?”

“Boston, aye.”

You realize now that’s the harsh tone clouding his natural accent and you wonder if he even knows that he does it.

“That must have been exciting, I’ve always wanted to travel. Why on earth would you want to come back here?”

His face clouds over for a second and you can see his thoughts turning inward before he shakes his head, not meeting your gaze as he replies.

“Just time for a change of pace.”

“Oh! So it had nothing to do with all the men you and your brother dealt justice to then?”

He physically jumps in his seat, his horse skittering under him as he whips his head in your direction, eyes flashing dangerously.

“And just what do you think you know about that?” he asks, voice low but steady.

“The Boondock Saints? I know it all Connor, you have no secrets from me.”

Connor reins in his horse, reaching across to stop yours too.

“You better explain that,” he says, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, “your secret is safe with me.”

“How so?” he asks.

“Because, Connor, your Da and my Da have been friends since the beginning of time, so it seems. And since your Da has been home, you’ll find him most Saturday nights with his feet firmly under our kitchen table, regaling my Da with tales about his vigilante sons and how proud he is of the both of ya. He wanted me to mess with ya a little, Connor, but I can’t do it!”

“Wait,” says Connor, realization dawning on his face, “you’re Billy’s daughter? Wee Tracy?”

“Well not so wee anymore,” you laugh, “but, aye. I’m surprised you remember. I was barely knee high when you boys left.”

You urge your horse forward again and Connor follows suit.

“Wee Tracy! So, you never left the farm?”

“Well, I left for a while but things happen, you know how it is, and now I’m back. Da needed me and I needed… well, I needed to be anywhere other than where I was.”

“Man trouble?’ he asks with a grin and you give him a cool stare, not used to sharing intimate details about your life with a near stranger.

“Isn’t it always?” you reply with a sigh.

“Aye lass, I guess it is.”

You push your horse forward before he can ask you any further questions and you stay ahead of him as you lead the way out onto the hillside, the early spring sun bright in your eyes, a cool breeze stinging your cheeks.

The afternoon passes without incident, you don’t find any lambs but you know it’s still early in the season and, as the sky starts to darken, you turn back towards home, Connor falling in beside you once more. He’s been silent pretty much most of the afternoon, apart from to ask a few questions about the farm and the sheep.

“Tracy?” he asks. “How has he been, you know, since he’s been back?”

“Your Da? Honestly, I think it’s done him the world of good, being back here. He certainly took no time at all to adjust back to the life. He seems different than he did, even a few months ago when he first knocked on our door. Lighter somehow, like a weight’s been gradually lifted from him, does that make any sense?”

“Aye,” he replies, smiling. “I thought so too but it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who sees it.”

“But what about you and Murphy, this must be quite a culture shock after living in America for so long?”

“You can say that again!” Connor laughs harshly. “But there was no other choice, there were too many people looking to put us in the ground. We’ll be fine, we always are.”

“Well, you’re safe here at least. Even if people catch on to who ya are, they’ll never say. We look after our own down here, ya know that.”

Connor nods and falls silent again until you’re almost back to the farm, the dusk deepening around you, and then he reaches out to stop your horse once more, looking you straight in the eye.

“Does it bother you,” he asks, “knowing what we’ve done?”

You think carefully before answering, shivering a little in the growing cold.

“Did they truly deserve it, Connor? Do you believe in your heart that they were really evil men and the world is a better place without them in it? Did you kill any of them for any reason other than justice?”

“They were the scum of the earth, each and every last one of them, spreading their filth among good, decent people, while the powers that be stood by, idle and impotent in their wake. I know in my heart that what I did was justified and I did it with a steady hand and a clear conscience.”

“Then it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I trust your Da and he’s been emphatic in his beliefs that everything the three of you did was for the good of everyone. I guess that means I trust you too.”

Connor smiles softly, the corners of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling.

“Come on,” you say, “let’s get inside before we freeze to death.”

The barn is warm and inviting and while Connor tends to the horses, you check on the pen of lambs. When everything is finished, he walks you to your car, opening the door for you before wishing you a goodnight and watching you drive away.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Spring passes quickly, lambing season in full effect, and your days pass in a blur until you’re falling into bed, exhausted, every night. Connor and Murphy are a little green at first but they soon pick up and you can’t deny that they’re hard workers when they’re not behaving like teenagers, half their age. They’re an endless source of entertainment for you either together or apart, making the hard days pass quicker, cracking you up with their jokes and wild stories about their lives in Boston or just pulling juvenile pranks on each other.

Every Saturday night finds them crowded into your tiny kitchen, alongside their Da and yours, sharing a home-cooked meal and a little too much whiskey. To your delight, Connor turns out to be more useful in the kitchen than he is on the farm and, despite the endless mocking from Murph, he makes it his duty to help you cook and clean up every week.

Occasionally, you almost get the impression that he might be flirting with you, the way he bumps your hip when you’re doing the dishes or the way he catches your eye when Murph is spinning a yarn and he smiles just for you. Or the way his hand lingers against your spine for a moment too long as he helps you from your horse. But then you dismiss the thought as wishful thinking, telling your brain its fooling itself, that he could never be interested in someone like you, a nobody from nowhere living a life she never planned. You’re sure he had his pick of women back in Boston, he’s just too damn good-looking not to have, and now it seems he’s grabbing the attention of the local single ladies here, judging by the reaction he and Murphy have gotten the few times you’ve taken them to the local pub. You put his attentiveness to you down to his friendly nature and push the thought of anything more from your mind.

As the weather starts to warm up a little, it brings the rains with it, days upon days of a never-ending downpour that turns the surrounding area to a quagmire of thick, rich mud. Everyone is miserable and on edge, the brothers’ fights taking on a more serious edge than usual, ending with a split lip for Murph and a bloody nose for Connor, both of them testing your patience no end.

Finally, when you think you’re about to grow gills, you wake up one morning to brilliant sunshine streaming through your curtains and, just like that, the rain is done. You leave the house with a smile on your face for the first time in ages, enjoying the sudden warmth and amazed at the overnight transformation of the landscape from a dreary grey to a luscious, sparkling green.

You pull your car into the MacManus farm and climb out, stretching in the morning sun. There’s no one in sight so you head into the barn to check on the last few lambs that are still there. You feed them and clean out their pen, then take care of the horses, spending time grooming them and mucking out their stalls. By the time you’re done it’s lunchtime, so you decide to go look for Connor to see if he wants to take the horses out for a ride after you eat. No matter how hard you plead or try to bribe Murphy, you haven’t been able to get him on a horse yet.

As you close the barn door, you hear yelling coming from the back of the house, so you head in that direction, recognizing Murphy’s voice. As you round the corner, you stop, taking in the sight of the pair of them pelting each other with great dripping handfuls of the wet mud that makes up the yard outside the back door. You shake your head, wondering if they’ll ever start acting their age. Connor is closest with his back to you as he shelters behind the side of the family’s white van, now a mud-spattered shade of brown. Murphy has somehow managed to wedge himself between the side of the house and the enormous rain barrel that leans against the corner of the wall.

He spots you behind Connor and waves a greeting, his face splashed with mud. Connor turns his head in your direction, blue eyes glinting in his equally as dirty face. In the split second that he’s distracted, Murphy bounds from his refuge, scooping up two handfuls of mud and, before you can utter a warning, he’s launched both lots at Connor and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that his aim is way off. There’s no time to do anything but close your eyes as a ball of slick, cold mud hits you squarely in the face and neck, making you gasp. Luckily it misses your eyes and you open them to see Murph frozen in his tracks, panic on his face for a moment before he turns on his heel and hightails it around the side of the house.

You wipe your hands across your neck, grimacing as the cold, slimy mud slips into the neck of your t-shirt. Connor approaches you, trying to look sympathetic but obviously stifling a laugh.

“Aww, Tracy love, I’m sorry. Come ‘ere.”

As he’s walking the last few steps to meet you, he’s pulling his t-shirt off over his head, turning it inside out, until he’s standing in front of you and he reaches up to wipe the mud from your face with a dry corner of the warm, soft material.

“Murphy always was a terrible shot,” he says, “but don’t ya worry, love, I’ll make sure he pays later on.”

He finishes cleaning the goop from your face and you try to stay focused but the scent from his shirt and the nearness of his bare flesh are messing with your concentration more than a little. He tucks a stray strand of hair from your ponytail behind your ear and smiles down at you.

“Let me take you out tonight to make up for it.”

Your heart stutters a little.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to do that, its fine. Beating Murphy will be more than enough,” you reply.

“Maybe I want to,” he says, hand resting warmly on your shoulder.

“Why?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

He looks at you for a moment, eyes roaming your face and you feel your cheeks flush, knowing what a mess you must look right now. He leans in to whisper in your ear and his nearness makes you hold your breath.

“Because I like ya, Tracy, I like ya a lot. I thought ya might have figured that out by now.”

He turns and walks away from you, calling back over his shoulder.

“I’ll pick you up at seven and wear something nice, Tracy. You do own a dress, don’t ya?”

You reply with a handful of mud, carefully aimed at the center of his retreating back. He doesn’t flinch when it hits him but you hear him chuckle as he disappears into the house, leaving you standing there with mud drying on your skin and a warm, nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

True to his word, he arrives exactly at seven, knocking on your front door and making conversation with your Da until you’re ready. You can hear them laughing as you take one last look in the mirror, tears welling in your eyes as you try to control your hair for the last time. You feel out of your element, it’s been a while since you’ve been on a date and you’re not happy with the way you look at all. You tug at your dress, a simple grey A Line with long sleeves and a skirt that mercifully flares out at the waist and ends just below your knees, hiding all your supposed imperfections. Your feet are clad in knee-high, black leather boots with enough of a heel to be totally impractical for farm living and that’s why you fell completely in love with them the moment you laid eyes on them and just had to have them. Looking at them now gives you a momentary boost of confidence and you straighten your spine, taking a deep breath and telling yourself it’s just dinner with a good friend, nothing to be so worked up about.

But, as you come down the stairs and see him standing in the hall, leaning casually against the wall, dressed in dark jeans and an open-necked black shirt, all your insecurities resurface and you want to run back up the stairs and hide. Before you can turn tail and flee, his eyes meet yours over your Da’s shoulder and you know then that you’ve lost the fight. You like him, you can’t deny it and, even though he’s said that he likes you too, at this point you just don’t even care. You’ve been hurt so many times before, you think, what’s one more?

His smile broadens as you finish descending the stairs and your Da turns, a look of pleasant surprise on his face as he takes in your appearance and you smile gratefully back at him. Connor reaches out to take your hand, gently lifting it to his lips to kiss the back, the soft brush of his short beard tickling your skin, before he tucks it into the crook of his arm, says goodnight to your Da and leads you out to the van.

“Your chariot, milady,” he says as he opens the passenger door.

You laugh, thinking the old battered transit van is about as far from a chariot as you can get but at least, you notice, he’s washed the mud from the sides. With you safely inside, he climbs in the other door and starts the engine.

“Ready?” he asks and you just nod your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Good,” he says, putting the van in motion.

The drive to the nearest town is a good 45 minutes and Connor fills the time with idle chatter, no different from any other day and you start to relax until, by the time you reach your destination, you feel completely at ease, bantering back and forth with him as usual.

The restaurant he’s chosen is nice but not overly fancy and you breathe a sigh of relief as your waiter seats you and hands you the menu. Connor orders wine and you resolve to yourself to only have one glass, the last thing you need is to get drunk and make an even bigger fool of yourself.

“So… what looks good?” Connor asks, looking over his menu once the waiter has left.

You skim through your choices, mostly good, hearty Irish dishes but old habits die hard and you find yourself replying on auto-pilot.

“I think I’ll have the chicken salad.”

“Pfft,” scoffs Connor. “Tracy, don’t tell me I brought ya all the way out here to a nice restaurant, where someone else is going to cook for once and all yer gonna order is a salad. Order the steak, lass, every girl needs some meat inside her once in a while!”

He winks suggestively at you and his infectious laugh brings one to your own lips. You roll your eyes at him over the top of your menu but, when the waiter returns, you choose the slow cooked beef and Guinness stew with all the trimmings, ignoring Connor’s satisfied smirk as the waiter takes your order.

You sip at your wine, all the time aware of Connor’s eyes on you until you’re almost squirming in your seat.

“What?” you ask him, finally, setting your glass on the table.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly and you feel your skin flush at his words. “I mean you always look beautiful but it’s nice to see you with your hair down and away from all the dirt and livestock.”

“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” you reply and you’re surprised to see a small hint of embarrassment cross his features.

“Honestly, I had to borrow the shirt,” he says.

“Well, it fits you perfectly,” you answer, admiring the way it clings to his shoulders, remembering the lines of his muscles from earlier. You feel the heat in your face rise a little more and you’re relieved when the waiter arrives with your starters.

The food is good and not just because it’s the first meal you haven’t had to cook yourself in a very long time. While you eat, Connor turns the conversation to you, claiming you know everything there is to know about him, so now it’s his turn. You talk about your childhood and school and how you moved away in your twenties to try and make a life for yourself in London. You trail off as the waiter comes to clear your plates and take your dessert order, which you protest but Connor insists on, saying you’ll share. The waiter comes back with a mouth-watering chocolate cake concoction and two forks but you don’t move to try it, your thoughts lost in the past, eyes staring unfocused at the wine glass in your hand.

“What was his name?” Connor asks gently.

“Hmm?” You look up at him.

“The guy who broke your heart.”

“Which one?” you snort humorlessly. “Does it really matter what his name was?”

“What happened?” asks Connor, his face so open and genuine with concern that your insides do that little flip thing again and, without meaning to, you find yourself opening your mouth to tell him about your past.

“I was 27, old enough to probably know better but still enough of a naïve country girl to be dazzled by life in the big city. I found myself a nice little job as a secretary and could just afford the rent on a tiny, tiny flat that was barely one room and a bathroom but it was mine and I loved it. I made some new friends who took me out and introduced me to city life and everything was what I had hoped it would be.  
And then, I met him and everything changed. To me he was elegant and sophisticated and charming…damn, was he charming. He could have talked the stars out of the sky, I swear, if he’d wanted to. In a heartbeat, he’d moved me out of the little home I’d made for myself and into his, saying he couldn’t live without me. He lavished me with attention and beautiful gifts, called me his ‘Irish Rose’ and promised me the world – marriage, kids, growing old together – everything a girl thinks she wants to hear. Everything was perfect in Tracy’s world… until the day that it wasn’t.”

You stop talking, pouring yourself a second glass of wine, even though you know you shouldn’t, and taking a long drink.

“Did he hit you?” You look to Connor and his face is set in stone, the blue of his eyes paled almost to an icy grey, and in that instant you can see the man who ended over a dozen lives in the name of justice and you think you should probably be afraid but you feel strangely comforted by the fire burning in his eyes.

“Not all abuse is physical, Connor. You can abuse a woman by making her feel stupid in front of your friends when she asks an innocent question on a subject she doesn’t know. You can abuse her by buying her a pretty dress and telling her she looks beautiful, only to tear it from her skin when you get her home, calling her a painted whore because she dared to pass the time of day with another man. You can abuse her by lying to her and telling her that her sick mother never called, even though you know she’s worried to death about her and waiting for that call. There are lots of ways to abuse a woman, Connor, and not all of them involve punching her where no one can see.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Connor’s knuckles are white against the edge of the table, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Ahh, the question I asked myself a hundred times a day. Because when you’re told enough times that you’re worthless and unattractive and fat and that you should be grateful that someone like him still wants you when no one else ever will, you actually start to believe it, as crazy as that may sound.”

“What changed?”

“I was late home from work one day. I was stressed about my Ma and I’d messed up something I’d been working on, so I stayed late to fix it, forgetting that we were supposed to be meeting a client of his for drinks that evening. I barely even got my key in the lock before he yanked the door open and pulled me inside, screaming in my face. My explanation never even made it past the first word before he slapped me so hard my ears rang and I thought my eyes had come loose from their sockets.

I was so shocked, I just remember crumpling to the ground and he left me there, saying he was going out and complaining how he couldn’t take me with him because now I looked even more of a mess than usual. As soon as the door closed behind him, I threw up all over his expensive cream carpeting and then went into a full-blown panic attack about how I was going to clean that up before he got back.  
I was on my knees, desperately pulling cleaning supplies out from under the kitchen sink, the acid taste of vomit still burning my tongue, when I realized there was blood dripping on the back of my hand. I went to the bathroom and had no idea who the woman was looking back at me from the mirror with mascara running down her cheeks, a livid hand-print covering one side of her face and blood pouring from a split lip.

I didn’t know who she was but I knew I didn’t like her and I didn’t want to be in her company anymore, so I washed my face and packed my old, worn suitcase that was still hiding at the back of my closet and I left. I took only the things that I’d arrived with, nothing he gave me was ever truly mine. I caught a cab to the nearest train station and then just kept going and going, heading home inch by inch. It took me three days with barely any sleep, looking over my shoulder the whole time until I was walking in my own front door and my Ma was holding me like she did when I was a child and telling me everything would be okay, I was home now.”

Connor’s face has paled even more, the small silvery scars that mark his skin standing out in stark relief, making you randomly wonder how many more he carries.

“And he never came after you?”

“No. He’d known vaguely where I was from but never cared enough to ask for specifics. I called my boss as soon as I was settled, she’d always been good to me and I felt bad for just running out on her. She told me he’d been to the office, full of concern at my disappearance, telling them that I hadn’t been feeling well, that I’d had some kind of mental issues and he was worried for my health. But when she refuse to give him any of my contact information, he’d turned nasty and she was close to calling the police on him.

None of the friends I had there really knew that much about me either from before the time we met, so I knew he couldn’t get anything from them either. It took some time but I gradually just put him out of my mind and didn’t let him worry me anymore. My Ma got a lot sicker and that was my focus and when she passed, I didn’t feel the urge to leave again.”

Connor’s hand reaches for yours across the table and you let him take it, feeling the strength in his fingers as he wraps them around yours.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says and you bob your head in acknowledgment, just letting him hold your hand while you start putting all those memories back in their boxes.

“I’ve never told anyone what happened before. My Ma knew a little of it but she didn’t need that burden and neither did my Da. The friends I had before I’d left were different somehow, I guess they’d just moved on with their own lives. So, I just let everyone think that I came home to take care of my Ma and then stayed because I didn’t want my Da to be alone, which is close enough to the truth.”

You glance at the table, where your untouched dessert is still sitting between you and then shake your head, looking at Connor.

“Can we get out of here?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says and signals the waiter while you excuse yourself and head to the ladies room.

When you come out, he’s standing by the door which he opens for you, slipping an arm around your waist as he follows you outside.

“What now?” he asks, the warmth of his body pressing against your side.

You look around, eyes catching sight of a pub a few doors down, the thumping beat of a live band reaching your ears.

“Come on.” You take Connor’s hand and lead him toward the neon-lit windows of the pub where you push open the door and let the sounds and smells wash over you for a moment before you go inside, towing him behind you until you’re belly-up against the bar. You order drinks and then push your way through the rowdy crowd to the edge of the tiny dance floor in front of the equally tiny stage. For a local band, they’re pretty good, mixing the traditional Irish sound with a touch of rock which somehow works for them. Soon you’re bouncing in place to the music, letting it push away all the negativity from before and when Connor wraps his arms around your waist from behind, you let your body meld to his, gyrating against him with the beat. He laughs in your ear and nudges you forward onto the crowded dance floor where you spin in his arms.

“Don’t tell me you dance too, Connor MacManus, I won’t believe it!”

He leans in, breath hot against your cheek, so you can hear him above the music.

“Darlin’, I’ve been livin’ in Boston, not on the moon!”

He spins you away from him then snaps you back close, arms circling your waist once more as his body finds a rhythm with yours and you move with him, smiling so hard you think your face may break.  
You stay on the dance floor through the next few numbers, Connor moving you with an expert hand, never once letting you go. Abruptly, the band changes tempo, slowing things down with a haunting ballad and you find yourself pulled into Connor’s embrace, your arms linked around his neck, one hand playing with his hair, your chin resting on his shoulder, his cheek rough against yours. You close your eyes, reveling in his nearness, his musky scent filling your senses as you breathe him in. His hands make the slick move from your waist to your ass, resting gently against your curves and, while anyone else may get a jokey nudge to move, with him you let it slide, your body craving his touch.

You turn your head to plant small kisses along his neck and up to his jawline and you feel his pulse quickening under your lips. He pulls his head back to look down at you, eyes holding yours for what seems like an eternity before he drops his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and just resting against you until the end of the song.

As the music picks up again, you take his hand and lead him outside. The quiet washes over you and you shiver a little, wishing you’d thought to bring a jacket. Connor puts his arm around your shoulder, rubbing at your arm to keep you warm and heads you in the direction of the van. The short walk warms you up a little but you still feel a chill as he lets go of you to unlock and open the van door for you Before you can climb in, he stops you, taking your arm to turn you to him.

“Tracy, wait,”

You look up at him expectantly and then his hands are cupping your face and there’s a brief instant where his lips are hovering over yours and then he’s kissing you. His tongue parts your lips and you push yours eagerly against it, hands coming up to grip at his forearms. His thumbs brush across your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing you against the cold surface of the van. You can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt and your hands come down to fist in the material at his sides, pulling him harder against you.

He moans a little into your mouth, hands dropping, one to slide around your waist, arching your back to him and the other to rub softly down the front of your thigh, sending jolts shooting through your nervous system. You’re completely lost in him, the taste of him, his scent, the way he feels against you and you’re light-headed which you’re pretty sure has nothing to do with the alcohol you’ve consumed.

With a grunt, he breaks the kiss, pulling back from you just enough that he can see you without releasing you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice scratchy and a little strained. “I just couldn’t resist anymore. I wanted to take things slow with you, not fuck things up, but you drive me crazy and I just had to do that in case I never got another chance.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply, hand coming up to smooth the worried look from his brow. “Did you see me stopping you? No? Because I wanted it too.”

You reach up to capture his lips again, a softer, slower kiss this time that ends naturally. You smile up at him, hand still resting against his neck. He takes it in his, stepping back from you and bringing it to his lips to kiss each of your fingertips.

“Come on, I should get you home before I want to take this further than I should.”

He turns you toward the van door once more, holding it until you’re safely inside and then closing it behind you. You slide across the bench seat so that, by the time he climbs in, you’re in the middle, lap belt secured and he grins as he starts the engine, reaching an arm around you once he’s out on the road.

Neither of you speaks for most of the journey home. As the roads narrow to country lanes and you know you’re not far from your house, you suddenly speak up.

“Connor, stop the van. Here… pull off here.” You indicate a small dirt track leading to a closed wooden gate, just off the road and he does as you say, coming to a halt with the headlights illuminating the ‘No Trespassers” sign that’s rusted to the ancient gate. He kills the engine, turning to look at you in the glow of the dash.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, that little line of concern furrowing his brow again.

“What about what I want? What if I want you to take it further than you should?” you say, unbuckling your belt and moving to straddle his lap, kissing him before he can respond. His body tenses beneath you for a fraction of a second and then his hands are fisting into your carefully tamed hair and he’s devouring your mouth with his. Your hips push against his crotch and your hands are searching for the buttons on his borrowed shirt when he grabs your wrists, stopping your kiss.

“Tracy… no.”

His words hit you like a dash of cold water and you practically fall off his lap trying to get away from him. His eyes widen in the dim light as he realizes what he’s said.

“No, no, no darlin’. I didn’t mean ‘no I don’t want to’, you have no idea how much I fuckin’ want to, but not like this. I don’t want to fuck you in some filthy van on the side of the road. You deserve better than that, darlin’. This isn’t you, trust me.” He opens his arms to you. “C’mere.”

You slide back across the seat towards him, burying your face against the side of his neck as his arms close around you.

“I want you,” you state simply, mumbling against his skin, surprising yourself with the truth in your words.

“I know,” he strokes your hair softly, “and I want you too but I won’t treat you like some cheap whore I picked up for the night at the docks. I learned that lesson the hard way!” he says, pausing to let his words sink in.

You elbow him in the ribs, laughing as you push off from him even though your frustration has given you an ache deep inside.

“I’m sure that’s the truth,” you say as he restarts the van, backing carefully out onto the road and heading back towards your house.

“Hey! I would never,” he says indignantly, “but maybe you should ask Murph about that someday, ask him how Lola is.”

“Lola? Oh Lord, do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he laughs, his fingers finding yours in the dark and twining around them.

He pulls into your driveway, coasting to a stop and shutting off the van before coming around to open your door, taking your hand to help you down. He closes the door quietly behind you, eyes flicking to the darkened house.

“It’s okay,” you say, “Da will be in bed already and once his hearing aid is out, nothing is going to bother him until morning. He has to sleep with his alarm clock on his pillow just so he can hear it!”

Connor laughs softly, pulling you to him and kissing you gently on the lips.

“So, Miss Tracy, can I see you again sometime?” he whispers.

“How about breakfast?” you whisper back, looking pointedly at the house behind you and then back to him, tugging gently on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, Tracy love, is that such a good idea, with your Da in the house an’ all?”

“My practically comatose, tone deaf Da you mean? Come on, you can be up and out in the morning before he’s even awake, he’ll never know you were here. Besides, I’m a grown adult who’s definitely old enough to know what she’s doing in her own home.”

You reach up to kiss him again, tongue trailing across his bottom lip and you hear him hiss slightly between his teeth. You pull away from him.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind that is,” you say, mustering up a suitably sad look to give him. He chuckles under his breath, allowing himself to be led to the front door, his hands resting on your hips as you search for your key.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be trouble,” he whispers, nuzzling the back of your neck and tickling just below your ribs.

The door creaks loudly open and you both freeze, waiting for a sound from above, giggling like teenagers when there’s no response.

“Shhh!” you admonish Connor as you carefully shut the front door and lock it. You bend to slip your boots off, indicating the wooden stairs with a nod and he follows suit, peeling off his shoes and socks until you’re both standing barefoot at the bottom of the stairs. You start to go up and he’s so close behind you, he keeps bumping you at every step, making you giggle even more. With his free hand he grabs at your ass as you lead him up the stairs and, by the time you close your bedroom door behind you, locking it for good measure, you’re breathless with suppressed laughter.

Bright, clear moonlight is streaming through you open curtains bathing the room with a silvery-white glow and you move to close them but Connor stops you, spinning you back to him in mid-step.

“Leave it,” he says in a low voice, “I want to see you.”

A frisson of nervousness jangles your spine.

“Connor, I…”

“Shh,” he says, pressing a finger to your lips, all the urgency from before seeming to have left his body as he slowly moves around behind you, fingers brushing aside your hair as he reaches for your zipper.

Tantalizingly slowly, he pulls it down, pushing the soft material down over your shoulders, his rough-skinned hands running over the skin of your back, caressing you gently before he unhooks your bra, pushing the straps down to follow your dress. Softly, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, he plants hot kisses at the base of your neck, working out toward the top of your shoulders, fingertips still stroking the skin of your lower back.

He works his way back around you, still leaving kisses across your flesh until he’s standing in front of you. He slowly reaches out to take your arms, which are clenched up against your chest, holding tight to the fabric of your dress and move them down to your sides, Your dress slips from your body taking your bra with it to pool at your feet and you fight the urge to throw your arms back up to cover your breasts. Connor holds out a hand to you and you take it, stepping out of your dress as he turns you to the window to stand before him, naked except for your panties. Without a word, he reaches for your waist, his palms pressing against your sides for a brief moment before he slides them down, fingers hooking into your underwear, which he pulls gently down over your thighs and lets go, watching them drop to your ankles. You take his offered hand once more and slip one foot out at a time until you’re completely naked in front of him.

Keeping hold of your hand, you watch as his gaze travels slowly down your body and back up to meet your eyes. He licks his lips, fingers tightening on yours, as he steps closer to you, tilting your chin up to him with his other hand.

“More. Beautiful. Than. I. Had. Ever. Imagined.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to your lips then moves down your neck, tongue flicking out to lick at the hollow at the base of your throat. He moves around your body again, fingers brushing your collarbone as he leans into you to talk low in your ear.

“I’ve been imagining you quite a lot, Tracy love.”

His fingertips trace a path down your spine then slide over the curve of your ass.

“It’s crazy to say it,” he continues, voice nothing more than a whisper in your ear, “but I’m actually jealous of a damn horse! Every day, watching you control that beast with your thighs, damn, it just does things to me.”

His hands come around to the front of your torso, rising up to stroke the undersides of your breasts as he pushes against you from behind, the hardness of him obvious against your flesh.

“All I can think about is what it would be like to be trapped between those thighs.” His fingers grasp at your nipples, twisting them until you’re arching back into him, your body aching with desire. “Having you guide me the way you guide him, bending my body to your will.”

One hand slips from your breast and skims down over the curve of your stomach to tease at the hair on your mound.

“And I’d be a willing mount, darlin’, so eager to please you, give you your every desire.”

The fingers stroking at your mound suddenly push lower, parting your lips to rub against your clit and you throw an arm up to grab at his neck, scared your knees might buckle. He kisses and sucks at your neck, one arm now circling your waist, holding you fast against him, while the other massages your clit back and forth and you can feel the wetness growing between your thighs. He groans against your skin as he pushes two fingers inside of you, burying their thickness as deep as he can.

“Uhhh, you’re so wet for me, darlin’, you have no idea how much that turns me on.”

His fingers are sliding in and out of you, your hips rocking towards his touch. The ache inside of you is getting out of control, you need him so bad and the hardness of his cock pressed against your ass is just teasing you all the more. Somehow you manage to get enough control of yourself to stop his hand, whimpering a little as he pulls his fingers out, turning in his grasp to face him, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass.

“Connor,” your voice is raw with lust, “you’re wearing too many damned clothes!”

He grins down at you, letting you go and you crawl onto the bed, laying back to watch him strip as he watched you. You’re not disappointed as the moonlight hits his toned body, his muscles defined in light and shadow, the black ink of his tattoos standing out against his pale skin. As he unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear, you catch your breath, eyes drawn to the thick length of his cock, standing against the dark thatch of hair at his groin.

He climbs on the bed to lie beside you, hand reaching out to caress your stomach as he leans in to kiss you again. Your tongue tastes his, flicking against his teeth and you nip playfully at his bottom lip, eliciting another of those deep groans from him. His hand finds its way back to your aching pussy and you part your thighs for him, wanting to feel his touch inside you again. He trails his kisses down to your breasts, sucking at your nipples and tickling you with his beard, making you laugh lightly and dig your fingers into his hair, pulling his head up to kiss him deeply again.

“Connor,” you breathe his name against his lips and he moves against you, one leg hooking over yours to push between your thighs, his cock digging hard against your hip.

“Wait…” you whisper and he freezes while you reach out a hand, grasping for the drawer of your bedside table. Yanking it open, you rummage blindly inside until your fingers close on a small foil-wrapped square and you lean back towards him, bringing the condom into his line of sight, not wanting it to be a test but knowing that it is, all the same.

He doesn’t hesitate, taking it from your fingers and tearing the corner with his teeth, tossing the empty wrapper over his shoulder with a grin. He’s reaching down with it when you stop him again and he looks at you, confused.

“Let me,” you say, taking the condom back from him and sliding down the bed while he rolls onto his back, his grin even wider. His eyes are focused on your hands as you carefully pinch the tip of the condom and take him in hand, slowly unrolling it down his length, listening to the way his breath quickens as you squeeze your fingers around him before working your way back up his body, tongue licking up from his happy trail over his abdomen, your breasts brushing against his skin as your teeth graze his nipple and he groans louder this time.

He grabs at your hips and deftly flips you over onto your back, pushing your knees up and out as he moves between your legs, his eyes never leaving your face. For a moment he hesitates above you and you smile up at him, reaching down to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance and pushing your hips up to take him inside. His hesitation breaks and he plunges forward, mouth opening in a silent moan as he fills you.

Your hands reach around his back, nails raking his skin as he lowers his body against yours, taking his weight on his elbows and begins slowly thrusting into you. He kisses you and you suck hard on his tongue, contracting your muscles around him as he slides into you. Gasping, he breaks your kiss, pushing deeper and faster and you start to moan, fingers leaving red crescents against his skin.

Pushing up off of you, he sits back on his knees, pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist as he continues thrusting into you, face buried against your breasts, your hands clinging to his shoulders. As you ride him, controlling his thrusts with your hips, his head tips back, eyes looking into yours once more.

”I want to make you come, darlin’, I want to see the look on your beautiful face as your body lets go. Tell me, baby, tell me what you want,” he asks breathlessly, thrusting harder into you and you feel your pussy clench at his words.

“Uhh…Connor… touch me… I want your fingers on me while you’re inside me.”

One of his hands leaves your back, coming around to push between you, shoving its way down to where your slick lips are wrapped around his cock and starts teasing at your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp, tightening around him again, “like that… fuck…Connor…”

You bounce against his lap, feeling sweat trickling between your shoulder blades as his fingers pull and roll at your swollen clit until you feel the tell-tale tingle start and you close your eyes in ecstasy as you come hard, pussy clenching around him, mouth forming silent words until his name slips again from your lips and he wraps around you, supporting your trembling frame, making soothing noises against your neck.

Riding the high from your orgasm, you lean back in his arms, having him lower you back to the bed where you wrap your legs tight around his waist and push up against him. He presses down on you once more to kiss you deeply then pushes up on his arms, leveraging himself to pound into you, your pussy making wet, sucking sounds at every thrust until his face contorts and he lets go inside of you. His arms vibrate with the effort of holding himself up as he pushes into you a few last times, so you tug him down to lay on top of you, holding him while he pants against you, liking the feel of his weight covering your body.  
He doesn’t move, even after his breathing has returned to normal and you stroke your fingers on his back.

“You okay in there?’ you ask with a smile.

“Aye… no… aye,” he replies, lifting off you and grinning, his cock sliding from you, slick against your thigh. “Let me just…”

He rolls to sit on the edge of the bed and you hear him snapping off the condom, grabbing tissues from your nightstand to wrap it in before tossing it in your trash.

“Such a gentleman,” you say as he rolls back next to you, pulling you in against his chest.

"Well, I aim to please, darlin’”, he drawls.

“Oh, you did that alright,” you reply, shuddering a little at the memory of him buried inside of you.

“Good.” He kisses your head, hand stroking at the small of your back. You lay, contented, for a while, your mind not really focusing on anything other than what just took place.

“You’ll stay till morning?” you ask, not wanting to sound needy but not wanting him to leave. He doesn’t answer but pulls up the blanket folded at the foot of the bed over both of you and tucks it around you before pulling you close again. You sigh and close your eyes.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

When you open them again, it’s still dark and you snuggle back down before you realize that Connor’s side of the bed is empty and an instant of hurt stabs at your heart before you notice him standing at the window, looking out at the night.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, sitting up and pulling the blanket around you against the cool air in your room.

“Nothing,” he replies, crossing the room to slip back under the covers next to you, his cool flesh against your warm skin sending delightful shivers through you. “Just some nights I think my body still thinks it’s on Boston time.”

You cuddle sleepily against him.

“Do you miss it?” you ask, stifling a yawn.

“Aye, sometimes.”

“Would you ever go back?”

“No, I think that door is firmly closed, love.”

He falls silent and you’re starting to drift off again when his voice brings you back.

“Ya know, I can’t promise you the stars, Tracy, I can’t lavish you with fancy gifts. Hell, I can’t even say with any certainty that my past is never gonna come back to bite me in the arse. But I can promise you this, if you’ll have me, I’ll never raise a hand to you or my voice, I’ll never disrespect you in any way, I’ll do my best to keep you safe and loved and treated like a lady deserves.

And, maybe one day, when you’re ready, you’ll tell me the name of the motherfucker who dared to lay a hand on you and me n’ Murph’ll pay him a little visit, have a nice talk with him about how you treat women.”

You don’t respond, scared that if you do, you’ll start to cry and you’ve cried enough for one lifetime but you find his hand under the blanket and squeeze it tight. He shifts position, rolling you onto your side and spoons around you, cocooning your body with his until you drift back into sleep.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Your Da’s voice calling you from somewhere in the house pulls you from a delicious dream and you feel Connor start behind you as you tumble from the bed, grabbing your robe and slipping out onto the landing as fast as you can.

“What?” you yell down over the bannister.

“Just wonderin’ if you were ever gettin’ up, lass?” your Da replies, looking up at you from the bottom of the stairs. You curse silently under your breath, realizing how late it must be.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, “I’m getting dressed now.”

You start backing towards your room, mind racing on how you’re going to get Connor out of the house when your Da’s voice comes again.

“And Tracy, tell Connor that if he plans on staying for breakfast, he better get his lazy arse out there and help me feed the pigs!”

You fly back to the bannister, looking over it in surprise at your Da’s grinning face.

“I may be old and deaf, Tracy girl, but I’m not bleedin’ blind to the ugly-arsed van parked in me front yard! Now get your skates on, lass, your men need feeding.”

You drop your head to your hands in embarrassment, the sound of your Da’s laughing on the way out mixing with the chuckles you can hear coming from Connor in the bedroom.


End file.
